


Broken Facade

by BoredWriter



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Game(s), Post-New Dangan Ronpa V3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:48:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23007430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoredWriter/pseuds/BoredWriter
Summary: Kokichi and Shuichi are both lost. After the game, each of the students were given back their old memories, but were allowed to keep their current ones. How will they fair when they know the truth?The game was all fake basically and no one died because I said so ):<
Relationships: Oma Kokichi & Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 1
Kudos: 105





	1. Chapter 1

The room is dark.

It’s always dark nowadays,

how Kokichi prefers it to be.

A phone lay meters away,

broken.

He couldn’t stand it.

Shaking hands clasped at untamed hair–not that that was much different from before.

He didn’t deserve to be messaged.

He nearly killed them all.

Sure, for the purpose of ending the killing games, but the issue still layed there,

bare for all to see.

Why did they care?

They shouldn’t care!

They should hate him.

He _wanted_ them to hate him.

His cheeks felt heavy.

When was the last time he slept?

And-

Those were tears tracking his cheeks.

He thinks, at least.

The time was unknown.

Maybe it was nighttime?

A knock sounded at his door.

It was afternoon then.

Kokichi recognized the rhythm by now.

Shuichi.

His heart thundered and skipped a beat.

It wasn’t like this was a new occurrence,

But Kokichi’s heart still felt the same.

”Kokichi..?”

He sounded worried,

per usual.

Kokichi drew in on himself.

Where was that fake smile he’d gotten so good at?

The lies he’d forged?

Now he felt so bare,

so plain for the world to see.

Plain for _his_ world to see,

Shuichi.

The door drifted open and in came the man of the hour.

Kokichi glanced up,

he always glanced up.   
  


Eye contact.

A golden sunrise meeting a purple sunset.

Not that Kokichi deserved to even be slightly compared to something as beautiful as a sunset.

”I brought you some food.. I, uh, I’m assuming you haven’t eaten yet?”

Shuichi was always knowing.

He was a detective after all.

Or a supposed detective.

It was all fake.

Fake.

The word screamed in Kokichi’s mind.

When was it not?

In the game, the entire persona was a lie anyway,

but something about his memories being fake..

it felt wrong.

It made his stomach drop.

He’d gotten his actual memories,

but they were hard to accept.

All he had was Saihara—no, Shuichi.

But in his fake memories he had an entire family.

A group of people who understood him.

And at least then he wasn’t obsessed with some show that would get him hypothetically killed.   
  


Sometimes he wondered how Shuichi dealt with all of this.

He stared at the boy for a second, wondering.

Shuichi always seemed fine.

Sometimes he would just get this blank look on his face,

but after a while it would just turn into worry for Kokichi.

Kokichi hated that.

He didn’t deserve it.

He deserved hate and spite.

His plan failed in the end anyway.

Suddenly a hand was wiping his face,

soft.

”You were crying.”

Kokichi gulped.

”Nope!” He popped the P. “I think my room has just gotten a little dusty! Must’ve gotten some in my eye!!”

The fake smile was back.

Good.

He had missed it.   
  


Maybe this time Shuichi would believe the lie.

But...

He had been getting better at detecting lies.

Even with Kokichi getting better at giving them.

”Okay.”

Shuichi smiled.

Was this a real one?

Kokichi hoped.

He continued to stare for a moment.

Shuichi had _really_ long eye lashes. 

  
”Here,”

a plate of food was placed down in front of Kokichi.

”it’s.. it’s your favorite.” Shuichi smiled, then his eyes widened. “Well, your favorite from before- I.. I don’t know if you still like it, even after- uh...“ he went silent.

Kokichi stared at the plate.

It was mac and cheese, funny enough.

That had been his favorite

of his old memories.

His real memories.

  
He used the fork to take a bite.

More like a nibble, really.   
The taste exploded on his tongue.

A joke.

It tasted like regular mac and cheese.

The normalcy gave him a rush in a way.

A memory of him and Saihara sitting on the couch flashed to the front of his mind.

They were

laughing and smiling.

Saihara had a bandage around his wrist,

Kokichi had one on his cheek, along with a bruise by his eye.

Saihara had tried helping him that day.

From some bully.

Kokichi’s hand shook in real time.

Shuichi quickly went to take the fork, but Kokichi pulled away.

He shoveled more of the food into his mouth,

even as tears began to stream down his cheeks.

”Kokichi-“

”It’s really good, Shumai.”

Kokichi smiled at Shuichi, even with his mouth full of food.

”Thank you.”

Shuichi’s worried look went soft and he smiled.   
“Of course.. anything for you, Kokichi.” 

A minute later and the food was done.

Shuichi took the plate, 

he asked if Kokichi wanted him to stay longer.

A deny.

Kokichi didn’t deserve to have Shuichi there.

That was the end of that.

Even if Shuichi looked like he wanted to refute the denial.   
  


The door clicked shut,

per Kokichi’s request.

He dropped to his side, blanket engulfing him once more.

He stared into the darkness

and imagined Shuichi’s almost real smile.

His golden eyes.

His beautiful golden eyes.

For some reason his heart sped up,

excitement for the next meal.

  
He would let himself have that, at least.


	2. Chapter 2

The door shut with a click.  
An empty plate lay in his hands.

Kokichi had denied his attempt to stay longer.  
He wasn’t surprised, but still sulked a bit.

Shuichi thought he was getting better.  
Maybe.

It’d been two months since they all had woken up and gotten their “pre-game” memories.  
Shuichi didn’t really know how to feel.

A part of himself felt like these memories didn’t change anything.  
So what?  
Maybe he was some crazed, gross fan of some show that almost got him “killed”?  
It didn’t change who he is now.

He thinks.

Sometimes he finds his mind drifting to how it used to be.  
It grosses him out.  
Old him was kind of gross, really.

Although,  
The worrying over Ouma was a bit odd too.  
Sure, in the game he worried, but now with these old memories he felt sort of.. protective? over him?  
He couldn’t understand it.

Everything was this weird jumble.  
It all clashed in his mind.

He was normal before,  
But now he had these incredible detective abilities apparently.  
At least he got to keep them.  
Along with the crippling anxiety.

Bringing the plate to the sink, Shuichi breathed a sigh.  
He hoped he was doing the right thing.  
It was hard to know when he was helping Kokichi, opposed to when Kokichi was spiraling deeper. 

He wanted Kokichi to be normal again.  
But he didn’t even know which normal he wanted, or if that was a selfish wish.

Shuichi’s gut swallowed in on itself.

He glanced back towards the closed door.  
Kokichi was just laying there,  
in the dark.

Would that really help him?  
Would he ever get better?

Shuichi dropped the plate,  
glass crashing to the ground.  
Confusion swirled in his mind.

He thought he’d put that in the sink already. 

The door to the room swung open, Kokichi running out.  
He was only in some large T-Shirt and boxers, the blanket from earlier gone.

“Shumai?” Kokichi questioned, his voice raised and worried.

Shuichi’s eyes were still blown wide, unsure.

“What happened?”  
Kokichi stepped into the kitchen, eyeing the glass cautiously.

He seemed so.. worried.  
Shuichi’s mind supplied images of before the game. The real memories they’d given back to him once he was out. 

Kokichi was giving him a worried gaze, holding his hand in his own two.  
That’s right.  
This was that one time that Kokichi had gotten bullied.  
Shuichi had punched the guy, but hurt his wrist.  
Somehow.

He used to be really weak.  
At least now he still had those exercises with Kaito and Maki.

Shuichi went back to the present.

“I dropped it,” he stated dumbly.

Kokichi blinked at him, as if to say “no, duh”.

He supplied, “I was lost in thought.”

The boy paraded towards him.  
He crouched and went to begin picking up the glass, no words spoken.

Shuichi quickly went into a squat and hit Kokichi’s hand away. “Kokichi– you’ll hurt yourself.”  
He began picking up the glass and placing it into the sink above. “Let me do it.”

“I can take care of myself.”  
Kokichi used a dangerous tone.  
Like... the one from the game.  
Shuichi couldn’t remember it from before the game.

He flinched a bit.  
Unsure why it caught him off guard, Shuichi continued to move the glass into the sink.  
“I don’t doubt that.” He smiled, a soft one.  
“But I don’t want another incident like with the knife.”  
He remembered Kokichi’s wounded hand, blood trickling down his finger.  
“You have my heart, remember? So don’t let it happen again..”

Shuichi felt his cheeks redden, as he felt a little stupid for saying such a phrase.  
Kokichi had used it first anyway. 

Once he’d finished, he glanced at Kokichi, who was now standing and staring at him.  
He had this blank look on his face.

Then he flinched and said,  
“Oh yeah? And why would I let my beloved get hurt?” A pout.

Shuichi’s heart began pounding.  
He missed that phrase.  
That teasing tone.

“But I’m not hurt,” he supplied.

Kokichi grabbed his hands, inspecting them.  
After a moment he dropped them.  
Shuichi missed the grip immediately.

“Fine.”  
Kokichi turned.   
“Just...”  
His voice went quiet.  
“Be more careful, shumai..”

He smiled in reply.  
Shuichi watched as Kokichi bounded back to the room.  
He subtly missed the bounce Kokichi used to provide in his steps. 

But maybe, with time, things would get better.  
Shuichi was patient.  
He thinks.


End file.
